The Naughty List - 4. Deep End

“I like you, Ernesto. You’re not the only one who wants this.”

I felt brave as I said these words. Emboldened, even, by the shy smile Ernesto was giving me, his flushed cheeks, his lowered gaze… his everything.

So I grab him by the waist, and pull him into my room. The stillness in the house felt strangely loud as I gently push him onto my bed. The silence surrounding us was a deafening reminder of how private and secluded this space was from the rest of the world. And with this unfamiliar privacy came freedom and agency. And also… uncertainty.

For the first time, the weight of my action begins to dawn on me, causing my stomach to churn. My own decisions were about to push me into uncharted territory. I suddenly remember my first poolside experience during my summer in second grade. The lifeguard warned us how the deep end was actually much, much deeper than it seemed on the surface. That really unsettled me. I couldn’t fathom how anyone would ever feel comfortable in the water, when their feet couldn’t touch the ground.

The sound of my own breathing and heartbeat begins to fill my ears. A bit like how it feels when your ears are submerged underwater, when you close your eyes while staying afloat, letting the undulation of the water carry your body to a destination you couldn’t quite control. That feeling of being encapsulated in a bubble of your own sound… when you feel free, and strangely exposed and vulnerable, all at the same time.

“Quentin?” Ernesto asks softly.

I must have zoned out for a moment, because the sound of Ernesto’s voice snaps me back to reality. He’s looking up at me, with a curious look.

I blink. It takes a moment for my brain to re-register the situation again. When it does, I can’t help but quietly laugh to myself. There it was, again. The anxious part of my brain always had a way to distract me from the things that were right in front of me.

“What’s funny?” Ernesto asks, with an amused smile.

I shake my head, and look down at Ernesto. He looked amazing, as he always did. Everything about him was perfect, and irresistible. I was laying beside a dream I didn’t want to wake up from, just yet.

I close the gap between our lips and kiss Ernesto once more, to make sure our situation was tangible, and real. He giggles again from underneath me. And then he peers into my eyes.

“Quentin, are you sure you want to do this…?”

It wasn’t hesitation that I sensed in his voice. More so genuine concern and care, as if he wanted to make sure that I was sure. And strangely enough, the fact that he asked was enough to make my shoulder relax. His sincerity was affirming. And apparently, it was also contagious.

I smile reassuringly. “I’m sure Ernesto, I promise. What about you?”

He lowers his gaze slightly while biting his lips, and then nods his head.

“... I’m sure, too.”

And that was enough for me to wrap my arms around him, and dive right in. Suddenly, the thought of plunging into the cold water didn’t scare me as much anymore.

I grab Ernesto’s wrists and pin them above his head, planting gentle kisses along his cheeks and neck. I wanted him to feel all the things he made me feel, all at once, all right now. The burning sensation that lingered whenever his skin brushed against mine. The soft wetness of his lips. The heavy thumping in the chest; the perspiration; the excitement; the heat. Truthfully, I have no clue if I was doing any of it right, but I’d like to think that the airy gasps and moans I was rewarded with were an encouraging sign.

I take the chance to slide my thigh between his legs, pressing them against his growing stiffness.

“Do you like it? When I do this?” I whisper, in between breaths. I couldn’t help but smile at the helpless nod I’m given in response. He looked so lovable.

“Say it out loud, please,” I mimic him teasingly. For a moment, Ernesto looks at me in utter disbelief, before letting out a quiet half-groan, half-smile.

“I already did, no?” he replies, propping himself up on his elbows. “Estoy excitante, Quentin... ahora.”

There was a subtle insinuation in the way he muttered that last word. Like he was trying to reclaim initiative from me. My sneaking suspicion was confirmed when Ernesto cranes his neck to surprise me with another peck on the lips. In all honesty, both of these actions only had the effect of turning me on even more.

While giggling, I push Ernesto back down again, pinning him down so I could get a better taste of him.

“I’m going to undress you, okay?”

My announcement is met with another flushed smile. God, this boy was so gorgeous.

In my head, I try to curb my own eagerness as I grab the hem of Ernesto’s tight-fitted shirt. Once I peeled the fabric over and away from his body, though, I realized that any attempt at restraint was ultimately going to be futile, because…

“Jesus christ…” I hear myself mutter out loud.

He looked…. incredible. Ernesto Alvarez-Cruz, when shirtless and sprawled out on my bed, was a sight to behold. Breathtaking, in every sense of the word. The smoothness of his tan skin, delectable; the crevices of his toned muscles, strong. Every square inch of his body pulsated with energy and strength and perfection, like a Michelangelo sculpture brought to life.

Almost immediately, my brain flips through pages of my art history book that chronicled the vivid surrealist paintings that flourished throughout Latin America. These colorful, fantastical interpretations of reality were imagined by the artistic pioneers of the region. These masters saw magic in everyday life. And seeing Ernesto like this made me believe in it, too.

Ernesto was magical. And for the rest of the night… he was all mine.

I let out a trembled sigh, scooping up a clump of hair that kept falling onto my forehead. The boy was so unbelievably gorgeous, it was honestly starting to stress me out. I mean, really; how does a human being even look like this??

Unaware of my inner panic, Ernesto simply continues to look at me with a glazed expression. His quiet resignation almost felt like he was surrendering himself to me. And that compliance was maybe a blessing; my unreliable dexterity was about to get compromised even further, after all.

I take a deep breath, and clear my throat. And then, while trying to maintain a steady hand, I bring my fingers to the button that held the waistband of his ripped jeans together.

“Quentin, wait—...”

Ernesto suddenly interrupts. But it was too late. My fingers already popped the button open, unleashing the sizable silhouette of his manhood into the open air. Wow. Even with his underwear still on, one immediate observation was apparent: Ernesto was big.

I look up. “What’s wrong?”

He gulps. “It’s nothing, I just…” he mumbles. “It’s just, right now I’m a little bit… sticky.”

Ernesto’s face visibly reddens, as he exhales a bit.

I blink. “Sorry?”

Right then, a familiar saline odor draws my gaze downwards. On the tip of his tented boxer briefs was a faint circle of dampness, the size of a small slider bun. It appeared the moisture was seeping through from the other side of the fabric.

“Sorry, it’s just… when you kissed me earlier, a bit of my crema…” he mutters quietly. He then sighs loudly in defeat. “Ay, qué estoy diciendo…”

At that, I couldn’t help but pause. Ernesto buries his face into his elbow, seemingly in embarrassment.

“... I did this to you?”

I immediately grab his wrist and peel his arm away, denying him the chance to backpedal from what he was implying. His eyes turn wide and round as I press my palm against the cotton underwear. My fingers could almost taste the hot, “sticky” aftermath the fabric allegedly contained. And the stiffness suggested Ernesto was ready to make an even bigger mess, if I let him.

I couldn’t believe it. I did this? To Ernesto? Me?

My own length twitches and grows inside my pants. The boy in front of me— the South American dreamboat completely out of my league— nods his head timidly, with cheeks the color of chili peppers.

And that was fucking it.

In a matter of seconds, I was making out with the most beautiful creature I’ve ever had the privilege of becoming intimate with. Our clothes fly off our bodies, littering the carpet until nothing but our bare skin remained. My bed sheets engulf us both, and we start to make all sorts of inappropriate noises from within its silky enclosure. My neighbors might hear us. But I didn’t care. I didn’t even care how good or bad I was in bed anymore, either. I just wanted Ernesto. All of him.

Very quickly, Ernesto was no longer the only one turning ‘sticky’ inside the sheets. With our rising body heat, airy breaths, and sweltering sweat all trapped inside, every tangled movement causes the bed sheets to puff up, like a warm, wet bubble ready to burst at any moment.

We eventually lift our heads to pop this bubble, and catch a breath of fresh air. The immediate rush of cool air feels nice against our skin. Our chests are pounding and our breathing is heavy, like we’re a pair of divers who just came up from underwater. Ernesto and I stare into each other’s eyes, and a peaceful moment of serenity washes over us.

I lower my gaze to admire Ernesto’s body once more. With disheveled hair, and a thin layer of glistening sweat now glazing his skin, every bit of him oozed with lewdness that felt so right and so wrong to look at. It was the kind of lewdness that my eyes could taste. I mentally shake my head in disbelief, still unable to fully comprehend how this situation is even real. Ernesto has no idea how hot he looked right now.

“Do you realize how hot you look right now, Quentin?”

“Huh?”

Ernesto chuckles, and pins me back down onto the bed. He gives me a quick once-over, before biting his lips with the faintest smirk.

“I said you look hot, Quentin. I still can’t believe this situation is real.”

The comment causes me to stare blankly at him for a second.

“... Wait. Me?” I almost snort out loud. “No no no, Ernesto; you look amazing, the entire school would agree with that,” I laugh, a little defeatedly. “Me, though? I just look—...” my voice trails off, as I glance towards my own chest and arms that lacked any real definition or muscles. Admittedly, my build was pretty underwhelming, especially compared to the human stallion right in front of me.

“... I don’t know. I’m just me, I guess.” I sigh, a little bit more loudly than I should. It was a frustrating statement to say out loud.

Ernesto gives me a cryptic look, before lowering his lips to kiss me again.

“I’m glad that you’re you,” he whispers. “I really like you, Quentin. Just the way you are.”

His gaze was undeservingly sincere, like he meant every word he was saying. This time, I’m the one who holds back a blush.

“... Did you just quote Bruno Mars?” I barely manage to quip.

“Si, I’m so happy you noticed,” he beams, unironically. His smile truly was enough to light up the whole town. As if everything about him wasn’t wasn’t enough to melt my heart already.

Right then, a quiet thought crosses my mind. I initially try to push it back down, and make it go away… but it’s no use. The thought keeps resurfacing, like a buoyant pool noodle shoved underwater. I knew the reason why. It’s because it’s a fantasy I’ve held for a really long time, probably ever since I found myself being attracted to other boys. And that fantasy wanted to seize this opportunity to manifest itself.

Should I put these thoughts into words? I’ve never navigated these questions with someone before, and I’m sure Ernesto never has, either. But I suppose the first step in determining a destination together with someone is simply… asking.

I exhale slowly, and make up my mind.

“Hey, Ernesto?”

“Hm?”

“Could I maybe… top you?”

Ernesto look down at me, with curious eyes.

“S-Sorry, what do you mean?” he asks, genuinely puzzled.

His lack of knowledge in this subject matter is hardly a surprise. Heart beating, I quietly coat my fingers with my own saliva, and gently guide them past the space between his legs, beyond his erect manhood. On the other side, my wet fingertips greet his entrance with a kiss.

“I mean this.”

My fingertips draw slow, soft circles around his hole. Ernesto’s eyes widen upon catching my implied proposition.

His cheeks flare red, as he shifts his gaze away. His hesitation was clear and obvious. But it was also completely understandable. I was asking him to take a big leap of faith, after all— one that may possibly change how he views himself, forever.

For the next few moments, I hold my breath, and my body tenses up like never before. My eyes are laser focused on trying to catch even the slightest semblance of pushback in Ernesto’s body language. Because if he were to indicate even a faintest hint of a “no”, I wasn’t going to press him any further on it.

Until that very moment, however, I decide to continue asserting myself with my gaze. I didn’t want to shy away from the things I wanted anymore. We were standing on the edge of another precipice, and neither of us really knew what would happen if we decided to jump. We might get hurt. We might drown. And yet, I still wanted us to take this leap of faith. So badly. And I wanted us to do so, together.

Ernesto’s eyes swim a bit more, before finally meeting my own. Without a word, he bites his lips and turns his entire body around, still on all fours. And then— much to my surprise— he lowers his broad shoulders, tightly squeezing the pillow beside my feet with both of his arms.

With his face half-buried in the pillow, and his hips pushed out a little awkwardly towards me, he mutters:

“I’m all yours…”

The sensation of crashing into water overruns my body. Inexperience and naivety can sometimes make us do crazy, reckless things. But one thing was for certain, as I lunged my face forward like a swimmer propelling himself into the vast ocean— I’ve never felt more alive.

Within seconds, my tongue was exploring Ernesto in his full depth. The two powerful mountains of meat that fortified his entrance immediately surrender themselves to me, as my hands part them and knead them like they were made of playdough. I hear a muffled moan in the distance. It was the sound of someone discovering the pleasure of their ass for the very first time.

I couldn’t believe it. Ernesto truly tasted as beautiful as he looked. This, right here, was a meal I wouldn’t mind having for the rest of my life. As my tongue encroaches deeper and deeper into him, his strong body arches further and further, and his muscled back bends like a springboard put under stress, desperately awaiting release. It was crazy to think that I could drive Ernesto wild like this. That I could make him experience all the things he was experiencing. The thrill of it all was too much.

Right when I think things couldn’t get any better, I feel a soft pair of lips clumsily wrap themselves around my cock. Holy shit— Ernesto was sucking me off.

As the two of us simultaneously pleasured one another, I pictured Ernesto’s handsome face, bobbing up and down to service my cock. I imagined his gorgeous long eyelashes fluttering, his eyebrows furrowed, and his pretty lips and dimpled cheeks stretched wide to accommodate the unfamiliar length of another boy inside of his mouth.

The thought is enough to narrowly push myself into a climax. I quickly pull myself away from Ernesto’s puckered hole. And with an ease that surprised even myself, I flip him onto his back.

“Are you ready, Ernesto?” I ask him, eagerly throwing his legs over my shoulders.

With a bright red face, Ernesto looks at me, bites his lips, and cocks his head.

And just like that, I lean in and begin sinking into Ernesto’s tight, smooth hole. At first, he moans sharply, and his expression contorts in a way that made me nervous if I was hurting him. I could feel the girth of my cock pushing Ernesto past his physical limits… but as I gradually take up more space inside, the erection pressed firmly against my stomach seemed to suggest another narrative.

“I’m gonna move, okay…?”

I ask him, in between careful, measured breaths. Ernesto is sweating profusely, but nonetheless nods his head. Fuck, he looked so amazing. I kiss him, wondering if this was what it felt like for a husband to watch his wife go into labor. It was admittedly jarring to see Ernesto like this, wincing at every slight movement that stretched his smooth, sensitive skin in unnatural ways. But what awaited us on the other side was something truly special, and utterly beautiful. At that moment, my whole heart overflowed with love, admiration, and respect for the boy I was making love to, right in front of me.

Interlocking our fingers together, I pin Ernesto’s arms above his head. My body envelops his completely, leaving no gap between us. His throbbing shaft is secured firmly between our stomachs. The sudden pressure causes Ernesto to gasp, and he throws his head backwards. I take the chance to nestle my face against his exposed neck, planting a few coaxing kisses along the way.

“Breathe with me, Ernesto,” I tell him.

At first, my hips motion starts off tender and slow, like they were riding the surface of a gentle wave. But they gradually pick up pace. Faster and stronger strokes begin to slide in and out of him. Ernesto was now moaning uncontrollably, like a puppy in heat.

Faster. Stronger. Deeper. Louder.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh builds up into a relentless crescendo. Sparks fly in both of our brains, until finally, the two of us climax. Ernesto drizzles ribbons of cream all over our stomachs, while I do the same to his insides.

I pull out, and for a little while, the two of us deflate as is, our bodies still stacked on top of one another.

“... That was incredible,” I pant, still feeling a little high from everything that just happened.

“Indeed, it was…” he pants back, equally out of breath. “I feel like I discovered a completely new side to you tonight, Quentin...”

We look at each other, break into a smile, and then kiss.

To be continued...